


Crowley's Deal

by WareWolf



Series: Hunter and King [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 11, Follows on from "My Demon" but can stand alone., M/M, There is a not very explicit sex scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 08:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5328182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WareWolf/pseuds/WareWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As his relationship with Bobby Singer deepens, Crowley begins to discover changes in himself and wonders whether the King of Deals has inadvertently made a deal .... for human happiness and a second chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crowley's Deal

_In Hell, he is the King.  The strongest and most importantly, the cleverest, of the demons.  He spent many decades honing his powers and learning magic, instead of just sticking with the basics of teleportation and making things burst into flames.  He survived many enemies and attempts on his unlife and still enjoys visiting Earth and its luxuries, making the odd deal to keep his hand in._

_When Crowley returns "below stairs,"  there is instant tension and minions spring into action, taking his overcoat and placing a glass of his favourite Glenncraig in his hand.  Those of his court whose responsibility it is may bring him urgent documents and information and requests – if they dare.  They've also spent a long time learning to gauge the moods of the powerful ones who run the infernal realm, this demon chief among them, the one they call the Salesman for his skill in soul-selling deals._

_He spends less time below than he used to, perhaps less than is safe, for the King of Hell is the leader of a demonic wolf-pack, where to show weakness is fatal.  Loyalty is bought, but demons are fickle._

_Above, of late, things have become different._

Crowley, King of Hell, lay comfortably on his back, eyes closed, absorbing the scents and sounds of the earth plane.  More specifically, the scents of an old house, woollen blankets and the man propped up in bed next to him, who was talking on the phone, but keeping an arm around Crowley's shoulders as he did so.  After a moment he ended with a few gruff words and tossed the phone somewhere among the covers.

Crowley reached out a hand to trace down Bobby Singer's bare, muscular chest, still only lightly touched by age.  "So, where's the gathering to be?"

"The bunker,"  Bobby sighed.  "I told the boys that was what Hitler's last holdout was called, and I swear that was news to Dean."  He shifted to his side, captured Crowley's hand in both of his.  "I'm not gonna ask you to come along, if you don't want.  You can't have good memories of the place, from what you said, and you sure can't about a bunch of hunters."

"Better if I'd known you were alive,"  Crowley said softly.  "Would it make you uncomfortable, love, if I was with you?"

Bobby shook his head, almost violently.  He wished he had Crowley's gift with words, but that wasn't going to happen.  He wanted to tell him how he'd felt when Crowley showed up on his door and said what he had said.  Missing you.  I want to stay with you.  The thought of him not being there was like a physical ache;  the way he had felt about only one other person in his life.  He thought of Sam's warning;  that Crowley was powerful and twisted and dangerous, that Bobby should beware.  All true things but....He realised he had been quiet too long.  "No,"  he said hurriedly.  "No way.  I don't know how Sam and Dean will be, is all."

"Perhaps that doesn't matter,"  Crowley suggested.  He shifted position to lean his elbows on Bobby.  "The stories are already changing."

"Huh?"

"The true believers of any religion, any cult, any psychic with a trace of any real talent, are all getting readings of disaster, of the end of your world,"  the demon said softly.  "Priests find themselves in nightmare and wake to find themselves at their pulpits, spouting words of doom.  Tarot card readings end with the Death card. "  He slid over a little, slowly, but Bobby did not object, gazing up at him curiously.  The hunter raised his hands and ran them along Crowley's sides, smiling crookedly at him as he shivered.

"Let's leave that for now."

"Are you sure, love?"  Crowley wasn't certain that Bobby meant what he hoped.  They slept together, in the actual sleeping sense; they were certainly affectionate and he knew Bobby was interested, if wary, but so far, actual intimacy hadn't happened.  They were both still wearing boxer shorts;  not that those were much of a deterrent.

"Yeah,"  Bobby whispered.  "I want you to show me.  Before we go to the bunker in the morning.  And then if Sam or Dean makes any stupid, suggestive remark, it's gonna be the truth."

Crowley's eyes widened and he smiled slowly, appreciatively.  "I do like that idea."  He could see, though, that Bobby was still nervous.  Wanting him, yes, but uncertain.  He moved closer, leaned down to kiss the hunter, at first light.  It was Bobby who held him and deepened it.  "Robert, I'm not going to embarrass you in front of Sam and Dean, or anyone,"  he said softly.  "You mean far too much to me for that."

"Like you do to me, idjit,"  Bobby murmured back, one hand tracing over Crowley's shoulders.  "It's not safe, you know."

"What's not safe?"

"Other hunters.  They're not gonna believe it – it's not likely, you know.  They'll think you're controllin' my mind and might try to kill you."

"I can take care of myself, love."

"You can, but you're gonna have to put up with me helping,"  Bobby growled.  Crowley laughed softly and shifted his body so that he was half atop Bobby, grinning down at him.

Bobby felt a hard pressure against his groin, knew it was Crowley's erection, even as his own body responded.  He didn't move, not wanting to admit he was halfway to panic.  It had been so long since he had been with anyone, and he'd never told Crowley that his wife, Karen, had been his only partner and she had instructed him.  Even if that hadn't been the case and he'd been into sports sex all his life, he had never expected to be with a man.  He cared for Crowley, who had been surprisingly patient thus far, seeming content to kiss and cuddle, never pressuring him.  Until now, when Bobby had given him the go ahead.  He stared into the demon's dark eyes with their flicker of red flame.  "Let it feel good, love,"  Crowley whispered softly.  "No hurry.  We can just do this, you see?"  He moved himself against Bobby and the hunter gasped aloud.  "Or you can let me help you?  Do you trust me?"  He put the question almost grimly, at odds with the moment.

"Yeah,"  Bobby whispered.  He raised his hands, laid them gently on either side of Crowley's face, stroking him.  "I do."

He was startled to see a brightness in Crowley's eyes and then his cheeky smile.  "Then let's play."

Later, Crowley noted with pleasure that Bobby couldn't stop grinning.  He was sleepy, lying contentedly beside Crowley in the aftermath, but clearly happy with the way things had gone.  So was Crowley.  He had had lovers with more technical skill and ingenuity, certainly, but no one who had cared for him like this.  Now he lay in Bobby's arms, enjoying the feel and warmth of him, the sound of his heartbeat and the rumbling sound of his voice.

 _Please,_  he thought, not knowing to whom he spoke, or whether he just cast the plea into the formless ether.   _Let me keep this.  Let me keep him.  I don't care what else I give up.  I'll even help his damned boys, if I can just once have something – someone – for me._

*

Even the prospect of the Winchesters'  reaction to the truth of his situation re Crowley couldn't dampen Bobby's mood the next morning.  After his shower and dressing, he found Crowley sitting in the living room, in black trousers and his black jacket, but with the addition of a cobalt blue silk t-shirt under the jacket.  A little awkwardly, not sure if it was welcome, he bent to kiss the demon's cheek before going to the kitchenette for coffee.  His face was a little stubbly, but Bobby found he didn't mind that at all.  When he returned, bringing mugs for both of them, he settled in the chair next to Crowley.

"So, are we going in your delightful boneshaker of a vehicle?"

"I'm thinkin' it might save time for you to zap us to the bunker,"  the hunter said reluctantly.  "Truck was runnin' a bit noisy last night comin' back from the diner, I'm not sure I want to take it on another long run till I have a chance to check it out.  Would you be all right with that?"

"I'm fine with it, darling, I just don't want you to lose your breakfast over it,"  the demon answered.  "You may well be the first person I've met with demon teleport travel sickness."

"Thanks a heap.  I'll grab the stuff I'm taking and let the boys know we'll be there real soon."  He went out and returned within ten minutes, his duffel bag in his hand.  Crowley set his cup down and stood, reaching a hand to take Bobby's and squeeze his fingers reassuringly.  The hunter did so look like someone about to face death bravely.  The demon managed not to grin as he snapped his fingers, perhaps an unnecessary theatric but it helped him to focus his mind on the magic.  A simple spell but magic requiring concentration nonetheless.

And they still stood in Bobby's house.  Crowley frowned.  This time he focused all his attention, as for a major working and ...nothing.

"You okay?"  Bobby asked.  "You're breakin' my hand, just so you know."

"It's not working.  Again,"  the demon muttered, for what reason Bobby wasn't sure.  "I'm in my usual vessel, no dramas, no head trauma...so why?"

"I guess everyone has a glitch now and then,"  Bobby said.

"I'm not your bloody truck, Robert!"

"Be nice to her.  She's got to get us to Lebanon now.  I'll just get a few of my tools, plan to look her over when we're there."  Bobby patted his shoulder and headed off again, wiggling his crushed hand gingerly.  Crowley had quite a grip when he was upset.

*

The demon still looked upset when they finally climbed into the truck for departure.  Bobby wondered whether he should say anything.  Karen had liked it when he noticed things, even if she then steadfastly refused to say what was bothering her.  Crowley had packed some of his new clothes in a small, elegant suitcase Bobby didn't think he had seen before.  As Bobby glanced at Crowley's profile, he saw that Crowley had a cut on his cheek, not bleeding but fresh.

"Did you cut yourself shaving?"

"No, Robert, it's a fashion statement,"  Crowley snapped, looking straight ahead.  Bobby rolled his eyes slightly and started the engine, giving all his concentration to driving for several minutes.  Okay, maybe it was kind of a dumb thing to say, but not that bad, so why was Crowley steaming over it?  

Maybe an hour later, Bobby felt a hand slide into his free hand, which he had left within reach on the seat, and a light kiss on his cheek.  Crowley subsided again with a sigh.  "When I decided to try the cleanshaven look again the first time, I didn't exactly shave.  I just willed it to happen.  This morning, nothing, and I had to borrow one of your razors."

"Hey, one small cut's nothing,"  Bobby murmured, making his response unbothered, while he thought about what Crowley was saying:  He had not been able to use magic this time.  There were vehicles ahead;  he squeezed Crowley's hand and replaced his right hand on the wheel, giving the demon time to compose himself.  He had no idea what it meant;  he had supposed magic could glitch like anything else.  Certainly among the practitioners he knew, there had been a fair number of screw-ups, but none of them was someone who had been a demon for three centuries or whatever it was.

The rest of the drive was mostly quiet, but not uncomfortable.  They reached the bunker outside Lebanon around midday.  Bobby had stopped off for supplies of takeout, thinking that the Winchesters' cooking probably still left a lot to be desired.  So did his.  Upon arriving, he followed Dean's phoned instructions to drive the truck underground into the remarkably spacious car park beneath the bunker proper.  Both the brothers were there waiting for them.

Crowley got out of the car slowly and stayed beside Bobby, his face resigned.  The older hunter looked a bit wary as well as he advanced towards Sam and Dean.  It was Sam, as expected, who cleared his throat and motioned towards the door.  "Well, c'mon, I'll show you where you can put your stuff."

They followed him and Dean trailed them, which Bobby noted with a roll of his eyes.  "Good to see you boys as well,"  he remarked.  Crowley, for a wonder, stayed quiet.  Dean peeled off somewhere as they walked along a corridor and Sam waited for Bobby to catch up with him.

"I cleaned up a couple of the rooms here,"  he said and opened a door.  Crowley raised brows at Bobby and followed him in.  The hunter put down his bag on the bed, which was somewhere between single and double.  Crowley promptly sat next to the bag and bounced lightly up and down, causing the springs to creak.  Sam looked from him to Bobby and coughed lightly.  "Somebody want to say something?"  he asked.

"Bed's a bit noisy,"  said Crowley.

"He's gonna stay with me,"  Bobby told Sam, seeing no way out.

"I'll see how Dean's going with lunch,"  Sam said and made his escape.

*

"What was all that about not embarrassin' me in front of the boys?"  Bobby asked sternly.

"Oh, you don't know all the things I didn't say."

Bobby humphed at him, but couldn't stop a slight smile.  He leaned down to kiss Crowley's forehead, wondering at this sudden impulse to keep touching Crowley, needing to be near him, like he was some teenager.  Crowley looked pensively ahead, though he reached up a hand to Bobby.  "Be careful,"  he said suddenly.  "I don't like the way the Winchesters are acting."

"That's news?"  Bobby asked, sitting beside him.

"Who's supposed to be here?  Just Dean, Sam and us?  How about Castiel?"

"They didn't mention him.  Can't you tell if an angel's about?"

"I should,"  Crowley muttered.  "You should go talk to them, love.  It'll be better if I'm not there."

"I guess so,"  Bobby agreed, slightly unhappily.  He left the room and stood in the bare corridor outside, listening, then took the opposite direction from the way they had come in, through the underground entrance.  Moments later he heard voices and emerged into a large space of different levels and steps, containing shelves of books, seats and tables.  Through another doorway on a lower level he entered a kitchen and saw Sam and Dean sitting at a large table, talking intensely.  Both turned to look at him.  "Nice place you've got here,"  the older hunter greeted.

"Where's Crowley?"  Dean asked.

"Yeah, thanks, I wouldn't mind a drink,"  Bobby said pointedly.  Sam got up and went to one of the large fridges, retrieving a bottle of beer and placing it before Bobby.

"So where is he?"

"Still in the room."  Bobby sat and picked up the bottle.

"You just left him alone to do whatever?"

"He doesn't find you two particularly good company, for some strange reason."  Bobby popped the cap and took a drink.  "So, any news on the Darkness, Amara, zombies, your wanderin' witch?"

"I'm gonna check on him,"  Dean said, getting up.

"Leave him alone for a minute,"  Bobby growled.  "You wanted us here to talk about the shit you two stirred up..."

"We wanted to talk to you, Bobby, along with Jody and a few others,"  Sam said.  "We didn't exactly think you and Crowley would be, uh...."

"Joined at the freaking hips,"  Dean groused.

"So is that what you're most bothered about?"  Bobby asked.  "The fact that after you told me Crowley wanted to see me, and I okayed it, I actually let him stay around?  Or that I'm sleepin' with the King of Hell?"

"So you are actually, you know, having sex?"  Sam asked, in the same curious tone with which he had once asked, "Did you kiss him?" at the time of Bobby's deal.

Bobby glared at both of them.  Which was what he had done the other time too.  At least Crowley didn't have a freaking picture this time.  He thought.  He stood up again, taking the beer with him.  "When you two have decided to be polite, let me know."

*

He knocked lightly, then opened the door to their temporary room, part of him wondering whether the King of Hell would really still be there.  He was, comfortably lying on the bed, hands behind his head.  He had taken off his shoes, placed neatly at the foot of the bed, and his jacket, draped over the head.  "You're steaming gently, love,"  he observed.  "That didn't take long."

Bobby found himself wishing it was night-time, when he'd at least have an excuse for just staying in here with Crowley, instead of the longest and most uncomfortable of afternoons, even sans sunlight. "They're idjits,"  he mumbled.

"Call the news desk!"  Crowley mocked gently.

"Said they wanted to talk to me and Jody and a few others, but I don't see the sheriff around and so far as I can tell, there's only us rattling about in this damn burrow.  You want to go outside for a bit?  I need to walk.  I don't even care if my insides get shook up by your zapping trick."  He held out his hand but Crowley didn't move.  "Now what's the matter?"

"My energy levels,"  the demon said.  "Sit down a moment, Robert."

Bobby did, scooting next to him.

"Two things,"  Crowley went on.  "This morning when I had to shave, um, manually, and then when I couldn't 'port us here.  Just now I tried again, just to move myself a small distance,"  he gestured upwards, "and nothing.  It's quite unlikely, but I thought through things over the past little while and it's not impossible.  I, well, I may have made a sort of deal."

"Who do you make deals with?"  Belatedly Bobby thought that had been a bit confrontational and he started to qualify, but Crowley shook his head.

"No, you're quite correct.  The whole point of being King is that you don't have to.  I'm not sure.  God has left the building, after all, and no angel has the power, even if any of them don't want to see me ground into hellhound bait.  But I got a response to what I said, I'm almost sure."

"What was it?"  Bobby asked, more calmly.  

"After we were together, after you went to sleep, I asked to keep you, to keep this happiness, and that I didn't care what else I gave up,"  Crowley said quietly.  "I should have remembered that something, somewhere is always listening."

Bobby scrutinised him carefully.  He couldn't see anything different.  Crowley's vessel was human, so he wouldn't look different, it was just something uneasy in his eyes.  "That's not a deal,"  he said gently.  "That's a prayer.  Nothin' had to give you what you asked, but maybe it did.  Or maybe you're just...glitching."

"Take me out for a good drive and everything will settle, hm?"

Bobby looked at him again.  The snarky, casual tone was all typical Crowley, he thought; sexual innuendo, almost wanting a fight.  He wouldn't get that in Hell.  No one there would stand up to him, for good reason.  Slowly, Bobby reached out a hand to touch the demon's face, feeling that slight stubble under his hand.  Definitely male, no way he was fooling himself about that.  

"Whatever you need, you got,"  Bobby said to him.  "We'll work out what's going on with you.  But we're gonna do it at home.  The bad vibes you had about how the boys were actin'?  I got 'em too now.  We can talk on the phone if they want advice, same as always.  Don't worry about packin' your stuff up, we can get more."

Crowley nodded, moved to put his shoes back on and followed Bobby out of the room.  Or tried to.  The hunter had braked just beyond the door and Crowley walked into him.  "Uh, Crowley, you might want to..."

"Is that him?"  The female voice a few paces beyond Bobby was somehow familiar.  And furious.  "Yeah, that's Roderick.  He tried to kill me on a date.  And he lied to me!"

"I can't!"  Crowley hissed, snapping his fingers.  Still nothing.  "Oh, shit."

Sheriff Jody Mills strode forward, slapped Bobby's face and reached past him to grab Crowley's arm.  With the practice earned by dealing with many felons, she hauled him past the hunter and up against the wall, getting cuffs on his arms before either of the men could say anything.  "Ow,"  Crowley said distinctly.

"Jody!"  Bobby cried.  "Give him a chance to say something."

"Oh, he'll get a chance to say something,"  Jody promised grimly.  She grabbed Crowley's shoulder and pulled him back around.  "You know, the boys told me you were some big ass demon, but I'm not impressed."

Crowley's shaving cut had broken open and was bleeding.  "Are you saying I have a big ass, darling?"  he managed to say, rather indistinctly.  His lip was bleeding as well.  "We got on so well the first time."

"Crowley, shut up, you're not helping,"  Bobby warned.  "Jody, he's – things have kinda changed since he did that to you..."

"That they have,"  Jody agreed cheerfully.  "Dean gave me his demon-holding handcuffs and said I could take care of this bit, and it's not even my birthday."  A sudden grim thought occurred to Bobby and he looked beyond her but didn't see Sam or Dean.

"They'll be waiting in the dungeon, darling,"  Crowley confirmed.

Bobby made a move towards him and there was suddenly a silver angel blade in Jody's hand.  "Don't move, Singer,"  she warned.  "I'm sure you know what this is.  Another step and it goes in him.  I'm told he might survive it, but the chances aren't good.  Roderick;  walk.  Slowly."

"Bobby," came Dean's voice and now Bobby saw him, standing in a doorway along the corridor.  "We're sorry about this.  We know you're not responsible for what you're doing, but right now you can't think straight."  That got a brief snicker from Crowley, being herded towards Dean by Jody.  "We're going to sort everything out."

"You don't need to sort out a damned thing," Bobby growled.  "We were gonna leave, head back home.  Not your problem.  Not anyone's problem."  The unmasked misery in his voice did reach Jody, who looked at him curiously, then at the dishevelled looking man she had in the cuffs, who was looking back at Bobby in much the same way.  "Just get that knife away from him, Jody."

She passed the angel blade back to Dean, who moved out of the dungeon doorway to let her push Crowley through.  Bobby followed before Dean could stop him and went to Crowley, standing between him and the sheriff.  He saw the single chair in the middle of the room and the chains piled on it ready.  With thoughts of somehow overpowering both Jody and Dean, he spun about, then saw the two missing pieces of the puzzle come into the bare room.  Sam, and behind him the angel, Castiel.  Castiel looked as though he had been in the same sort of wars as they meant to visit upon Crowley;  his clothes were blood spattered and his face bruised, as though he hadn't had the power to heal himself.  Only angels could inflict that sort of damage.

Hurt or not, he was more than Bobby could deal with, and so, probably, were both of John Winchester's sons.  He shook his head slightly and turned his attention to Crowley, who was messed up but not hurt.  Not yet, he thought, with a tension in his gut and a flash back to times he had tortured Crowley's kind to ash and whatever passed for death, when you were beyond your death.  "Don't suppose you've got a plan B?"

"It involved use of my 'zapping' power,"  the demon answered.  

Something wet struck Bobby in the back of the head and splashed around him, catching Crowley in the face.  He screamed and jerked away, his flesh smoking.  Bobby spun around, seeing Dean standing there with a flask in his hands.  "Holy water?"  he growled.  "What the fuck, Dean?  You think I'm a demon?"

He couldn't touch Crowley, he had the stuff all over his hands.  The demon shook himself violently, then let himself fall to the ground and rolled like someone whose clothes had caught on fire.  After a moment he stopped, breathing hard, but Bobby could see the painful redness of his face, neck and arms and cursed himself for encouraging the demon to abandon the armour of his suit and even his beard.  That T-shirt was useless.

"No, not now,"  Dean said quietly.

"What are you attackin' him for?  He helped you get away.  Saved your lives again.  Sure, he deserved somethin' for what he did to Jody and I'd say this goes to account as payment..."

"No,"  Crowley growled from the ground.  "It doesn't.  It barely starts, so don't you start, Robert."  Painfully he picked himself up.  He had not been able to control his fall with his hands still cuffed behind his back.  "If you start a ledger of who did what to who, you will not find it in my favour, which you well know.  I will never be a trusted ally.  I will never, as my not-so-sainted mother put it, be invited to tea.  But to answer your question to the boys, Robert, I'm being attacked now because of what they suspect I have done to you."

No one had anything to say to that.  Jody's first anger had faded and she looked to Sam and Dean, who looked at one another confusedly.  Bobby held out his hand to Dean, who was nearer.  "Keys."

Dean passed him the cuff keys.  Crowley turned and Bobby uncuffed him, murmuring, "Sorry," as his hands, still damp with holy water, touched the demon's wrists.

"It's all right, Robert."

"No it ain't."

"I mean, it stopped hurting."

They looked at one another.  Bobby felt the holy water still soaking him, dripping down from his hair to drench his face.  Crowley was barely a pace away from him and if he touched him now, he would make him shriek in agony.  Bobby felt tired and old as he looked into the dark green eyes.  He forced himself to focus, to study the effect of the holy water on Crowley's face.  Damn it, he was nothing if not an expert on that.  "Hm,"  he said in surprise.  "You're right.  Should be still showin' third degree burns and it don't look nearly that bad.  Sam, come take a look..."

"No,"  Crowley said.  "We need another test.  Kiss me."

"I'm all over the stuff, Crowley, it's gonna burn you..."

The flash of anger from Crowley's eyes was all monarch of Hell.  "Kiss me."

"Your funeral,"  Bobby mumbled and leaned forward to meet him.  There was a moment of heat which had nothing to do with passion, a flicker of the magic which afflicted the damned.  He would have pulled back, but Crowley's hand moved to the back of his head and kept him there, deepening the kiss, as though they were alone.  And there was nothing but human warmth in the mouth on Bobby's, and in the eyes which studied him, the moment they broke apart to breathe.  Crowley smiled in a kind of triumph and Bobby broke into an unbelieving grin.  "Shit.  I'll be damned."

"Unfortunate choice of words, love.  The stuff is still affecting me, but not nearly as bad as before.  I seem to be becoming desensitised."

"That's impossible,"  Bobby stated.  "Well...it's impossible if you're still fully a demon."  Belatedly he remembered their company and turned, keeping an arm around Crowley, to glare fully and equally at Sam, Dean, Jody and Castiel.  That last had been pretty useless over the past little while, Bobby thought.  Looked like the angel was worse hurt than showed, but then he hadn't needed to step in.  If the other three had pushed it, with Crowley unable to teleport away or use his other powers, he would have been a dead demon in short order.  "If you'd done this reasonably, come to me, or even if you didn't trust me enough for that, worked out some way to test whether I was in my right mind, maybe we'd hang around enough for that now.  I still think you're going to need us – need him.  Maybe he's too new to know the Darkness, maybe anyone younger'n your feathered friend there is, but he's still got a lot of knowledge.  For that matter, so do I.  When things get bad, you remember that and try bein' polite for a change.  Come on, Crowley, let's go."

They let them go.  Bobby could feel the tension in Crowley beside him and he kept his arm around the demon, not knowing whether he needed it, but knowing that he, Bobby, needed the contact.  The others fell into step in a weird, uneasy little procession along the corridor towards the underground car park.  Bobby hoped the truck would start okay;  it would kind of spoil his grand gesture if he had to say;  well, we'll be out of here soon's I get her going.

Dean murmured something to Castiel;  the angel listened and shook his head, definitely.  Dean didn't look happy with whatever that answer had been.  Then Jody took a step forward and Sam tried to halt her.  She glared up at him and the Moose took his hand off her arm and retreated.  Any other situation, Bobby would have smiled and told Sam he should have had more sense than to try her.

"Rod – I mean, Crowley,"  Jody said.  Crowley gently freed himself from Bobby's hold and turned to face her.  "You said us doing this to you...didn't go to account.  Did you mean that?"

Bobby winced, expecting Crowley's usual blistering snark, but the demon heard her out and nodded slowly.  "I can't excuse it or even really explain it,"  he said.  "Since I went through the demon trial, or most of it, I find I have a problem remembering how I used to think.  There was never a problem, you see;  if I needed to torture or kill or get someone out of my way, I just did it.  I know I did it, but it feels like someone else.  That isn't an excuse.  It's a fact.  I can still kill people, of course, but I find myself rationalising. What is also a fact is that I didn't complete the trial, so I didn't kill myself out of remorse.  I could feel that state coming on me, as Sam gave me his blood.  That's right, Moose.  If you'd finished, I wouldn't have survived another night."

"So what do you think is happening with you now?"  Sam asked.  He put the question simply, no accusation.

"Tell them,"  Bobby said softly.  "Please."

"I have to tell them what led to it, if I do,"  Crowley murmured.  Bobby put a hand on his shoulder and held on.

"Go on,"  he sighed.

"Up to the night before we came here, we had not....been intimate,"  the demon said matter-of-factly, looking at Jody.  "Bobby Singer had been kind to me.  He told me then that he wanted to be with me, before we came here, so that when Sam or Dean made remarks, it would be the truth.  So we did.  In the morning, I realised I had not been happy like that ever that I could remember, and I thought – not aloud but some thoughts are as powerful as speech and can themselves be invocations – that to keep this happiness, to keep Bobby, I did not care what I gave up.  Quite soon after that, I found that I was losing my powers.  I could not teleport.  You didn't need your cuffs to keep me here."  He shrugged and turned to Bobby.  "Shall we go?"

Bobby headed for the driver's side.  Crowley lingered to say to Jody.  "I don't know whether I will get my powers back, or what I am now.  But I owe you a favour, no strings attached.  If you ask and I can do it, you will get what you ask for."

She blinked and nodded.

"Crowley,"  Dean said, a deep warning growl.  The demon sighed;  his had been such fitting last words.  "Whatever's going on, if you hurt Bobby, you're dead meat."

"Yes, darling.  Of course,"  Crowley responded soothingly, and got into the shotgun seat before Dean could go for him.  He half expected Bobby to start grumbling about everyone's behaviour, but when he looked at the hunter, he saw Bobby's slight grin and tilt of his head towards him.  So still in full view of the Winchesters and Jody, he reached up and gave Bobby a quick kiss.  Some deals were worth making.

 

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